


Into The Woods We Wander

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Community: cottoncandy_bingo, Cunnilingus, F/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stress Relief, Woman on Top, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:16:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miss Pauling gets stressed, gets stranded in the woods with Scout on a hunting trip gone wrong and makes some questionable, hormone fueled decisions that change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Woods We Wander

**Author's Note:**

> cottoncandy_bingo: tension/stress. Part super shitty weekend, part [this](http://dirtytf2confessions.tumblr.com/post/36655379615/i-cant-stop-thinking-how-hot-sex-with-scout) and [this](http://dirtytf2confessions.tumblr.com/post/36654177567/i-imagine-scout-to-be-very-talented-with-his)
> 
> Bring on the PWP.

Miss Pauling loved her job...it was just some days she loved it a lot less than others. And that these _some days_ had turned into _some weeks_ going on _some months_. Which had somehow led to her overseeing a hunting trip with Saxton Hale and the mercenaries.  
For the record, she'd filed a strongly worded ten page file of why this would be a bad idea, which Mr. Hale had promptly used to stoke the fireplace in his office. Without reading it. Or even glancing at it.

She'd spent the better part of a night writing that, too.

All together, there was a chance this wouldn't have ended up in complete disaster, except that circumstances came together to have her stuck in the wilderness. Alone, she could've handled. Not alone, well....

"I think if you hit the car with that wrench, it might get fixed. I watched Engineer work before, so I know what I'm talkin' about. He hits stuff all day long with his wrench and BAM, it's fixed just like that."

She didn't dignify that with a response.

The radio had been on the fritz for the past hour, they were stuck in the mud _and_ with a flat tire _and_ with engine trouble to boot. Saxton Hale had once joked (or at least she _hoped_ he was joking at the time) that you couldn't tell if a product was right unless it was on fire. Being on fire was about the only thing that wasn't currently happening with the vehicle.

Scout kicked the wheel of the truck. Somehow, it didn't fall to pieces.

When faced with mistakes, her usual plan of events was _burn all the evidence_. Burning papers or bodies was a whole lot easier than burning a large vehicle and a mercenary. Miss Pauling chewed on the edge of her pinky finger. This month had been hell on her nails.

"Oh, you do that too, huh?"

Scout held out his hand, to show that his nails were bitten to the nub, especially his thumbnail.

"Ma used to put bitter polish on my nails, but my brothers started callin' me a pansy so I stopped and started bitin' again," Scout said. "So, what's your reason?"

"Pardon me?"

"What makes you bite?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully. It was implied that she should keep as much of her personal life away from the mercenaries— _especially_ Scout–-however, it was a harmless enough topic, she supposed.

"Stress," she said.

"You really should get more time off," Scout said.

_Tell me about it._

"Granted, but I knew the job would be involved when I took it," she said.

"So, ask for it," he said.

"I doubt that would go over well," she said.

Understatement of the year.

"I could get my ma to ask. I used to get way less, but when I was missin' all the holidays she went right in and talked to Saxton Hale. She even got all us mercenaries extra time for it, too."

She'd heard about that, actually. She hadn't actually met Scout's mother, given that she'd been on another base at the time, but it was a moment that Saxton Hale still spoke of with fondness. Considering Spy's affections for her, so much that he would risk his life and job to remain with her made Miss Pauling think she must be a formidable woman indeed.

"Thank you but, ah, no thank you," she said. "I...prefer to solve my own problems."

He shrugged. "'s all right. But anytime you need me, I'll come runnin'."

He left to rustle through the back of the truck under the canvass. She was fairly certain there weren't any bombs or wild animals in there for him cause any trouble with, so she didn't make any move to stop him. He returned with an apple which he tossed her way.

It had been a while since she last ate. She took a bite as he tossed away a core and dug in for more. He apparently did everything fast, as he didn't so much eat as inhale whatever was in front of him.

"Scout, check the perimeter for me, will you?"

"Sure, anything for you, Miss Pauling."

After she finished the apple, she returned to trying to get the equipment up again, but it was hopeless. She could do a lot of things, but engines weren't one of them, and the radio was just plain being stubborn today. She finally gave up, and sat in the shade, fuming and tense. 

She heard a cry, a splash, and some particularly virulent swearing from the distance.

_Craaaaap that's cold!_

Scout returned a few minutes later. His clothes stuck to him, water dripping from him as he walked.

"Found a stream, it's cold as hell," he said.

Scout used his shirt to brush off his face, revealing his lower abdomen in the process, but only got himself more wet. He frowned and rung out the bottom of his shirt.

"Jeez, I'm soaked."

"Was the equipment harmed?" She asked.

"I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for askin', kind of you to think of me."

"I can see very well that you're fine," she said.

"Should be okay. It's made to survive the Well and Twofort, after all, and I sure have jumped in the water plenty of times down there."

"There should be extra clothes in the back," she said.

As he went back, muttering and swearing, the words blurred on the instructions she was reading. As if she were being magnetically pulled, she slowly turned and peeked over the seat. He peeled the soaked shirt off and wrung it out again before tossing it in the back of the truck. She could just see his shoulders and the top of his chest from here.

He wasn't so bad, really. Not at all.

The truck blocked too much, so much that she found herself craning her neck to get a better view. She was jarred by the realization that she was ogling Scout of all people. She turned around and tried to focus on the dash, the car _anything_ but Scout, and her hormones. He was her coworker, and had an abrasive personality to boot, so she hadn't given him a second glance. She'd judged him scrawny, especially compared to his teammates, however, a closer glance showed he had a lean, swimmers body. Now she was going from biting her nails to biting her lips. 

It'd years since she'd been touched by a man. Work had been so stressful and demanding that she hadn't even had time for her battery powered love life in the last month. At this rate, she'd have to take a sick day just to get herself off.

"Somethin' the matter?" Scout asked.

She didn't look up. "What do you do to deal with stress?"

"Bash in some heads, do some runnin', scream and sock it to someone, beat off. Stuff like that. Why, you need some heads bashed in? Because let me tell you, if you do, then I am totally your guy–"

"No, I don't need anyone killed at the moment," she said.

"Work got you all stressed out? So, uh, Miss Pauling. What do _you_ do for stress relief?"

"Drink and go to the shooting range. Not in that order, mind you."

"You go down to the shooting range? I never seen you there except during training."

"I don't go during duty," she said. 

"Really, I'll have to keep that in mind," Scout said.

Typical Scout. Knowing him, she wouldn't be at the firing range alone any longer. She pushed aside the clipboard she was looking at, and sighed. She had a limited amount of bullets, so she couldn't risk emptying a clip into the air at this rate. The tenseness wound up in her, and she rubbed at her temples.

"C'mere, I'll show you how to get rid of stress."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the truck. She found herself distracted by the heat of the contact of his larger hand about her wrist. It was hard to keep up with him, for even his slowest pace was faster than her usual walking speed. Not too far from the vehicle was a papery looking dead tree. Already part of the trunk had rotted away, and its branches rose up, spindly and forgotten. Scout pulled out his baseball bat from his bag about the back and tossed it up. He caught it, and handed it to her.

"You take this and you pretend this tree is whatever chucklehead that's makin' you pissed."

Miss Pauling looked it over. It was slightly dented and stained faintly red at one point.

"Nuh-uh. That stance is all wrong. Here, lemme–"

"I'm not hitting a home run, Scout," she said.

"Trust me on this, I'm a pro. You'll give yourself aches like that."

He repositioned her, moving her shoulders back, her arms out, until she was in a batting stance, and the surprise of the contact, the heat of him again nearly made her blush. However, he was so involved in what he was doing, he didn't notice.

"First you gotta insult the other guy. Watch this," He said. He made a rude gesture towards the tree. "Hey, asshole! I seen kindergartners with more balls than you!"

"That–"

"That is totally part of it. Trust me, I've been to enough baseball games to know; C'mon, cuss that chucklehead out."

She squared her shoulders and glared at the tree. "Your job performance is atrocious, and you will definitely see a strongly worded letter at the next meeting about it," she said.

"Put more _umph_ into it. Really show that guy who's boss!"

She squared her shoulders and glared at the tree. "You're a classless moron who couldn't find his own way out of a one exit maze!"

"Better, better," Scout said. "Hey, barkbrains, bet you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. _You suck_."

She lifted the bat again, and swung. It just barely grazed the side of the tree.

"Too high," Scout called.

She lowered it a bit, and wondered if he'd touch her again to correct her. She felt a strange sense of disappointment when he didn't.

"You're doin' great! Keep it up!"

She nodded, and set in on the tree again. There was a kind of thrill as she felt the force of the bat hitting the tree. The bark splintered and split beneath each strike. Something inside her which had been tightly coiled began to unravel. Even as her arms began to hurt, and she began to pant from the exertion she kept hitting at what was left of the tree. Bark and rotted pulp flew around, covering her dress, but by now she didn't even care. 

"I know you can hit harder than that, Miss Pauling! Show that tree who's who around here!"

She took all her strength and struck again and again. "You. Are. A pathetic, useless, _worm._ I look forward to personally taking care of you and then burying your body in a shallow grave!"

"Daaamn, remind me not to piss you off," Scout said.

She didn't mention that he managed to piss her off on a very regular basis and could very well use the reminder. 

She couldn't say that all the stress had gone, but it had lessened. She brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead as she let the bat fall to the ground.

"Thank you, I....needed that," she said.

"Anytime," Scout said. "I'm the expert at bashin' in stuff and cussin' people out, you know. Ain't nobody on base who can do it better than me."

But the giddiness hadn't simply doused her stress level. Now her thoughts were going places they shouldn't again as she watched him pick up the bat, watched the muscles work in his back, his legs. All she could think was that she wanted to run her tongue over every groove and bit of skin of him. There were so many things wrong with where her thoughts were headed. The only positive thing of the whole possibility was that she was one-hundred percent certain that there wouldn't be an awkward brush-off and rejection with Scout. No, Scout had made his interest in her _very_ clear. There'd only be an awkward afterwards. But at this point, she wasn't thinking of an after. The exertion had undone some wall within her, some line of self-control that now was long gone.

"Miss P–?"

She gripped his shirt and tugged him down to her level before he could say another word.

_"Mmmph—!"_

She kept kissing him because when she was kissing him she didn't think. Her body would simply reacted to him, and she could lose herself in the lust which was making her lose sight of common sense. She pushed him down into the leaves, and the contact only broken for a moment while he stared up stunned at her and what was happening before she was straddling him and kissing him again. It didn't take him long to break out of his stunned stupor, though. In a second we was pushing up her skirts, and beginning to inch her panties down. She ground her hips against his, taking a sharp breath as she felt his arousal hard against her. She bunched up his shirt enough that she could break away from the kissing to lick a hot line over the grooves of his chest.

"Oh, I'm _dreamin'_ —" Scout said.

She sucked at the base of his throat, reveling in the taste of his skin, the smell and feel of him–it really had been far too long since she'd been touched. She felt like a starving person gorging on a banquet, a banquet of skin and lust and heat.

"Holy crap, you _bit me_ ," he said.

Her response was to nip at him again, and suck hard enough at a spot just below his collarbone to give him a nice mark.

"Guess this solves whether I'm dreamin' or not," Scout said. "Holy _crap._ "

She pushed up his shirt and raked her uneven nails down his back. "Shhh, don't talk."

She silenced him with another kiss. 

She only broke away to get more of his clothing off, as it had started to get in the way. She sucked at his abdomen, leaving a nice large mark as she began to undo his buckle.

"Oh my _God_ ," Scout gasped.

She used her teeth to pull down his zipper, and rubbed her cheeks against the growing bulge in his pants. Miss Pauling gently closed her mouth over the bulge over his underwear, and ran her tongue over him. He was fully hard now, and she couldn't wait to get him out of these clothes and into her.

His eyes were very wide when she pushed pulled the last of his clothes off. She had to pull away to get her panties off, but in a second he'd pulled her back to kissing him, his hands cupping her cheeks, his frayed bandages a rough sensation against her skin.

She let out a moan against his lips as she lowered herself onto him. For a moment she simply enjoyed the feeling of being filled, the heat and the rising excitement inside her. She arched her back as she clenched her muscles tight around his thick girth. She had no idea of how long he'd last, so she wasn't about to leave her pleasure entirely in his hands. As she began to roll her hips, she put one hand between her legs and touched herself, even as the more slippery her body became with arousal and it began difficult to keep her hold.

He might have not been talking given she'd shushed him, but he made up for it by moaning like a whore, loud enough to make her glad that this hadn't happened in some storeroom on base. With her free hand, she dug her nails into his shoulder as her body began to tense and clench, slick and wet and full of him.

Her headache had begun to ebb away as passion replaced it, each thrust into her, each roll of her hips taking her higher and higher. She'd angled it to where he was hitting just in the right spot in her, and the combined friction of her thumb against her throbbing clit and him warm and hard inside her was driving her closer and closer to an intense climax.

She pushed him to the ground as she came closer, more incoherent as she held him there, riding him hard. She was so very close, pleasure and anticipation building up inside her.

Miss Pauling let out a low cry as the crest of the pleasure came upon her, she clenched tight around him, enough that he muttered a curse and held tight to her. The last of her stress melted away, lost in the current of pleasure running through her body, making her mind numb and blank until all she could focus on was him against her and the heat and delicious feeling going through her.

Miss Pauling collapsed onto his chest and gasped for breath. She let out a soft sigh. Her hair had come undone somewhere along the time, or he'd undone it, and now it hung in her face. She pushed it aside and tried to stand, but her body still felt boneless. Slickness ran down her thighs. 

"Hey, hey, just relax a minute," Scout said. "–but, can we move a bit? Rocks ain't comfy to rest on."

She pushed herself up, and as they repositioned themselves, she caught sight of his back. There were the beginnings of a number of bruises all over him, to say nothing of the nail marks, and the few bites and hickeys she'd left on his chest and neck.

"I got some nice wounds, huh? I've gotten worse just playin' baseball, let alone the kind of crap I've done to myself just doin' my job." 

"...you look like you got mauled by a bear," she said.

"Yeah, a cute little black bear. With glasses."

She made no comment, and instead laid her head on his chest. She wasn't even going to focus on what a monumental fuck up she'd just gotten herself into—in the most literal sense of the word. She was too caught up in the post-coital glow.

She was hardly a virgin and yet not widely experienced, treading that fine line of almost married once and several serious boyfriends, but she certainly ever had sex like this. Sex had always been rather dignified, in bed, with the lights out with only the fear of pregnancy and her reputation at stake, and those weren't much of an issue when she'd gotten a decent prescription for the pill and moved away from her family to go to college. Sometimes she came and sometimes she didn't, but it was always something she could've done better by herself—it was the human contact she really craved more than anything.

It hadn't been like _this_.

She'd missed this. Not just the rush, the climax, but the afterwards where she could just bask in the feeling. He was gently running his fingers up and down her back, she could hear the sound of his body, vessels and heartbeat and breath. Everything she was supposed to be doing seemed very far away. Job, what job? Even her stress seemed a very distant memory, one that had pooled away into complete satisfaction.

He wasn't even talking now—apparently she'd struck him speechless, something she didn't know was possible.

She could've just stayed there like that for hours, had she not caught sight of his headseat. It was there, accusing her with its Mann co. brand on the side. With irritation, she began to push herself up.

"I have to get cleaned up," she said.

"There's a stream over that-a-way," he said. "I did some pretty quality recono-crap, there. So quality, I freakin' fell in."

"Reconnaissance work," she said.

"That's the thing," he said. "Better watch out, that water's cold as hell."

She reluctantly got up and began to collect her clothes.

The bottom of the stream was covered in flat rocks. Miss Pauling slipped her dress all the way off, stepped into the water, and felt her skin contract into gooseflesh. Even with Scout's warning, it was colder than she thought it'd be, or maybe Scout just had a better tolerance for cold with all his stints at Viaduct.

She couldn't quite bring herself to dip entirely in, but stayed dipped into her calves. The thought of that cold water on her groin was not appealing in the least, but she couldn't be smelling of sex and him. She felt a splash against her back. Scout was sitting at the bank, still as naked as the day he was born, and grinning flirtatiously at her.

" _Scout,"_ she said

He reached out and caught her arm, so that he pulled her closer to the bank. "I sure as hell ain't comin' back in there, so we'll just have to meet halfway."

He kissed at the juncture of her neck.

"Not where it's visible," she said. 

He lifted up her bun and placed a kiss on the back of her neck, which was usually hidden by her hair. 

"Now you're just pushing it," she said.

"Oh, I'm good at pushin' it. Reaaal good. In fact, I could warm you right up. How about this–I get a blanket and warm you up real good?"

She was supposed to be cleaning herself not just of the scent of him, but cutting off the mistakes as well. She was supposed to be starting on the _this was a mistake and it isn't going to happen again_ talk that Scout wouldn't understand or get.

Temptation won over her better sense. Again.

She turned to him, and rested against his warm chest, a wonderful contrast to the freezing water. "Warm me up, you say?"

"Quality warmin', the kind you can only get from cold as fuck Boston winters. Us Southie boys, we _know_ warmin'."

On one hand, this was a bad idea. On the other hand, she was well on the way to stopping giving a damn about bad ideas and work ethic and whatever mess she'd have to clean up after this affair was done. 

"All right," she said.

"Just a second, baby. I gotta go get _supplies._ "

This sounded promising. It wasn't more than a few minutes before he was running back a pair of blankets over his back like a cape. Thankfully, he hadn't chosen the wool ones, but the poly-blend dark green ones instead. He laid one of the blankets out over the ground, lifted her up from the stream and onto the blanket, and pulled another around them as they both laid down.

This made her getting into the stream fairly pointless, and she'd just have to wash herself off again, but every kiss made her care a little less. The caresses became more sensitive because of the cold, as he began to kiss her shoulder and move slow, licking, nibbling and kissing every part of her. 

"You're so damn gorgeous," Scout said between kisses. "God, I can't even deal with it."

"You're smart, you're the strongest girl I know other than ma, and you're so damn cute it kills me sometimes," Scout said. "Not even kiddin' about that. You cross my mind and _blam_ , I stepped on a sticky bomb and my guts are all over the place. If Respawn wasn't around, I'd be a goner."

"Now you're just flattering me," she said.

"Nah, I seen plenty of pinups–trust me _plenty_ of 'em–and they don't hold a candle to you. You're just amazin'. Every time you come into the room it feels like I been runnin' a five miler again. You're just _gah_. You're great, you're _great_ —"

He buried his face in her breasts–which for the record, weren't even that large or noteworthy–and licked a hot line between them. She arched her back, arched against him, offering herself up to be adored. Her nipples were already hard from the cold, and he took one into his mouth as he brushed his thumb around in circles about her other breast. Her eyes were half-lidded in enjoyment, her nipples became even harder than the cold had made them under his tongue.

If he didn't find exactly the right spot on the first try, she would bend and arch to him, or even move his hand and mouth until he was just right. She was exposing herself, showing a weakness he'd only be too happy to take advantage of, but she honestly didn't care just as long as he kept making her get higher and higher on his touch.

He dipped his tongue into her navel, and she jerked up from the surprising tingle of it. He took a moment to lay his chin on her stomach and look up at her.

"This is right up there on my bucket list," Scout said. "I'm gonna kiss every single part of you."

"Every part?" She said.

" _Every part_ ," he said. 

He licked down the back of her calf in way of an answer. It wasn't long before he was kissing at her heels, and running his tongue over the bottom of her foot.

"Honestly, my feet–?" She had to stifle her laughter, and not just because it tickled. 

"Why not, you just washed 'em and I carried you out. B'sides, they're cute."

"Cute?" She said.

"Sure. They're small and stuff." She wiggled her toes, biting her lower lip and tried not to laugh, to smile, but failed.

"I didn't take you for a fetishist," she said.

"I ain't. Just, yours are nice," he said.

He moved up this time, and buried his face in her breasts again, with a happy and contented sigh.

"The girls missed me," he said.

"Did they now?" She said dryly.

"Yeah, I'm fluent in breast."

"Already?" She said.

"Hey, I'm a fast learner."

She laughed as he cupped her breasts, treating her like she was some voluptuous sex goddess. This was the longest foreplay she'd ever had, and she was enjoying every single moment of Scout's devotion. However, despite his claims to get every point, there was one he'd definitely missed.

"You forgot a spot," she said. She pointed to between her legs.

He licked his lips. "Nah, I didn't forget. I was just savin' the best for last."

He slowly began at the outside, licking a line over each fold until she was shivering with anticipation. He teasingly licked over he clit, then took it into his mouth, sucking gently. She let out a moaning gasp and rested her hands at the back of his head.

"There, there—ahh—"

She laid her head back as he pushed her further with each lick.

She'd had boyfriends, she'd had sex. It was never like this, as drawn out and tender. It wasn't like the first time between them, fumbling passion deep enough to draw blood, and she'd certainly never gotten this much loving foreplay before. She was going to have to rethink her stance on Scout if he kept being this charming and enjoyable in bed.

As her clit began to throb with another orgasm, he held his tongue there, tasting her pleasure, tasting her. She gripped and the blanket, moaning as the hot clenching rush came through her, an intense tingling wonderful sensation going from her center and radiating outwards.

He had the biggest smirk she'd seen on him yet, and that was saying something, given that smirking was his default expression.

"In case you forgot how awesome I am, I could just keep goin' and goin' if you want. I'm not even kiddin', this tongue of mine is top quality," Scout said. He leaned on his palm, and winked at her suggestively.

"I believe you—I've seen proof," she said.

"I know, right? They should clone me and give me out to all the girls, but then no other man would ever be happy or get a girl again, and wars would go on all over the damn place."

Usually his over the top egotism would annoy her, but today she just laughed. It was so ridiculous, far too silly to take offense to.

"I'll let you keep the original copy, though," Scout said. 

"Oh, gee, thanks," she said.

"You only deserve the best," Scout said.

She leaned her head back and groaned. "This is the closest I've had to a vacation in years."

"Yeah, baby, I'm a walkin' vacation."

She had a mental image of him swaggering down the beach with a lei and a Hawaiian shirt, and some garish print pants, with a kitschy straw hat and fanny pack to match. She couldn't help but stifle a giggle.

"You think that's funny? Maybe I should give you another tongue lashin' to prove my point."

He licked down her thigh, and she let out a little cry of surprise.

"It's your turn, though,"she said.

She thought about just spreading her legs and letting him have his way with her a little more, but with how long he'd been waiting, he probably wouldn't last long. She shifted until she was draped down over his abdomen, her hair tickling against his thighs. She positioned his cock between her breasts, and squished them together around him.

"They missed me, too," Scout said.

She rolled her eyes, but without any real malice as she dipped her tongue into the cleft of his cock. He let out a strangled gasp as she swallowed the tip of his cock whole in her mouth. Salty precum was at the tip of her tongue, but she never much minded the taste. She moved her tongue at a steady pace, her teeth behind her lips to keep what was probably his first blowjob from being a toothy one. 

Remembering a trick one of her more risque friends had once told her, she began to hum at the back of her throat.

He gripped the blanket so hard that it bunched up. His breath came in gasps, between his desperate _ohgodohgodohgod_ moans. She could tell he was fighting it, trying to be a man and last longer. She took it as a challenge, taking him deeper into her mouth, running her tongue down the bottom of his cock and sucking firmly, but gentle enough not to hurt him.

He groaned, thrusting deeper into her mouth hard enough to almost gag her. She frowned, unable to chastize him; he took her nails digging into his thigh as excitement. He twisted his fingers into her hair so tightly that it hurt, and pushed her head down. He let his head lean back, moaning loudly as he came.

She'd let it slide this time, but if he ever wanted his cock in her mouth again, he'd have to learn some manners.

She licked her lips and pushed herself up. Scout was looking at her with unabashed awe.

"You...You _swallow?_ " Scout said.

"And?" She said impassively.

"Holy shit...." he groaned.

They laid back, tangled in the blankets together. It wasn't the most comfortable places to bed down, but she was so far in post-coital glow that she barely noticed.

She felt him against her, wiry muscle and sinew to her back. Even though she'd only just gotten over her last orgasm less than ten minutes ago, a hint of possibility came to her. The good feeling, the relaxation and all the hard truths and consequences to come out of this didn't have to come. Not yet.

"About how long do you think it'll take for you to get hard again?" she said.

"Again?" Scout said. "Holy crap, woman, you are a _machine._ "

"It's been a long dry spell for me," she said.

"Oh man, _tell_ me about it. I had the longest, driest spell there ever was. Anyways, with you, no time at all. I'm a _love machine_ , after all."

"Good," she said.

She guided his left hand to her breast, and he was only too happy to begin stroking her. Thankfully, he wasn't a kneader—she'd have to push him off if he'd grabbed her breasts and squeezed them too hard. She guided his other hand between her legs.

"Oh.... _there._ "

She jerked her hips as he followed her instruction, rubbing his thumb with just the right amount of firm pressure over the most sensitive part of her clit. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the feeling. He was bringing her close to the brink again, even faster this time. He'd already started to pick up the habit. If this was what he was like as a guided beginner, she couldn't imagine what he'd be like once she'd taught him enough to be an expert.

"Here's the show you've been waitin' for," he said. 

He climbed onto her, bolstering his weight on his elbows and and thrust in hard as she sunk her nails into his back. For a second it was thrilling and wonderful, but even then, something was still lacking. It felt good enough, but he wasn't hitting just the right spot, even as she tried to bend and arch to meet him. He was also going too fast, so much that he'd spend himself long before she was done with him. She pushed against his chest, and he abruptly stopped.

"What—?"

"Roll over onto your back," she said.

He obeyed without question—a quality she liked in a man––and she climbed up on him, and pushed down hard on his chest. In a second, he was back inside her. Much better, with her in control, she could force his pace down, and angle him just where she wanted him.

He kept rubbing her, his other hand running up her back. She ran her hands all over his chest, feeling him up and using him as leverage to completely control just how fast and hard they went. 

"Bet you want some this, huh baby....oh yeahhh, you do—"

"I didn't give you permission to speak," she said. 

He let out a ragged breath and kissed her hard, seemingly even more turned on by her display of dominance. In retrospect, that probably explained why turning him down harshly only seemed to make him chase after her all the harder.

She tightened around him, just enough to feel the veins in his cock as he thrust into her. She clung tight to him, digging her nails into his skin as the pressure of him inside her, the firm feel of him rubbing her clit merged together and came over her, warm strong enough to make her let out a breathy moan as she gave into the impulses of her body and kept rocking her hips on the reverberations.

Her body clenched and throbbed, her clit so sensitive that it ached a little. She'd overdone it a bit, though she didn't care if she spent the whole next day limping. It was still very worth it. He lay spread eagle, and she still lay on top of him. His eyelids were half closed in pleasure as he gently touched her, not to start another round, but just because he couldn't keep his hands off of her.

She started to roll off him, but he held her there. 

"Aren't I cutting off your circulation?" 

"Baby, cutting off is the last thing you do to my circulation," he said.

So she stayed. It was pretty comfortable laying up on him. Every breath pushed her up, and the cool metal of his dog tags were stuck between their chests.

"You know, I had a lot of fantasies about you," Scout said.

"Oh? Did I live up to them?" She said.

"No. You _blew them out of the frickin' water._ How do you even _exist?_ You're just so damn perfect."

"I'm far from perfect," she said. "Most people wouldn't stand for my overbearing personality."

"Perfect for me, then," Scout said. "I sure as hell ain't most people. Most people can go screw themselves, they don't know what they're missing."

Some of her other boyfriends had been none too pleased with her dominant traits. She'd tried taking control during sex before, and it'd turned into more of an awkward wrestling match than anything, gotten her dumped the day after. An oddity, as she was usually the one who broke it off and not the other way around.

Scout, however, had if anything, seemed utterly thrilled to have her take control. She considered him. He was giving her another of those mix of smitten and cocky grins, where he attempted to be suave, but came out looking like a lovesick fool who thought too much of himself.

Even though her body had been lulled into a state of sleepy satisfaction and she wanted little more than to fall asleep on his chest, mission be damned, the work ethic she'd been steadily ignoring finally got back to her.

"We really do have to get back," she said with a sigh.

"Already?" Scout said.

"It's been a really long time," Miss Pauling said. Her watch had been broken in the last mission and she hadn't a chance to get a new one. Still, she hadn't broken the habit of checking her empty wrist.

She got up, still feeling a little buzzed from all the times she'd come. She almost toppled a bit, but caught her footing when Scout was behind her, holding her steady. Her clothes were a mess. Already they looked wrinkled and wilted, and she couldn't find her panties anywhere, even when she peered through all the underbrush and under the blankets.

"You think they'll be right at the truck, waitin' for us?" Scout asked.

God, she hoped not. Both of them coming out of the woods together, flush faced and happy looking, with wrecked clothes and messed up hair would be like drawing a giant neon _we just had sex!_ sign across them.

Thankfully, the truck was still abandoned.

"We may have to simply walk the rest of the way and send out a party to tow the truck," she said. 

"I can do it, but can you?" he said. "Those boots aren't exactly made for walkin'."

Her heels may have been sensible, but they still weren't going to help her on an expedition. 

"I suppose I could pull them off," she said.

"Then your feet would get all stuck with sticks and stuff. Nah, I'd have to carry you. Most men wouldn't be up to it, but I am," he said.

She knew he'd do it, too. He'd ignore how tired his arms got just to touch her a little more. He looked at her with an intensity that no other man had looked at her with, a hunger that couldn't be contained, like he'd start a war and betray anyone just to have one more touch of her.

She perched in the back of the truck. She'd looked before, but there was a chance she'd missed something in her stress. He took this as a chance to start talking. She only paid half attention as she searched, only contributing an occasional nod and _uh-huh_ to the conversation.

"So, in the nineteen sixty-seven, that season was called _The Impossible Dream_ , because the Red Sox came so close to getting the pennant that we could practically _taste_ it—"

He kept prattling on. She continued her search, but no results came forth. Feeling her stress level begin to rise again, she took a breath and a break. He was talking team stats now, something she had negative interest in. She leaned against him, because he was a lot softer than a bucket of bolts. He was comfortable, not too bulky and not big. She hadn't meant to close her eyes, but the sex had relaxed her. Or maybe little by little, she'd begun to trust him. She shouldn't, but he'd gotten under her skin without even meaning to.

*

Miss Pauling awoke with a start.

"How long have I been out?" she said. She looked up groggily at him and fumbled for her glasses, which he put straight into her hands. The world came back into focus as she put them on.

"Uhh, I dunno. It was long, though. Oh man, you fell off asleep and I couldn't move a bit. It was like being back in school. No talkin' or runnin' at all."

She pushed herself up off his shoulder, and stretched. He leapt out from the back of the truck and jogged in place, desperate for any kind of movement after being kept still for that amount of time.

She laughed softly. "You're ridiculous." 

He quickly came forward and leaned against the side of the truck.

"Hey, you're smilin' again! You haven't done that in a while. You used to back when I first met you, but you smiled less and less recently. I'll be a dumbass all the time if it gets you to smile like that."

"I said you were ridiculous, not that," she said.

He shrugged. "Means the same thing."

"No, they're not synonyms," she said.

"Sin o' hymns? Didn't think you were religious."

"It's.....never mind," she said. "You must've been hell on your teachers."

"I ditched it by the time I got to my teens. Ain't no reason to stay. I'm a Southie boy, the only places a Southie boy goes to are the factory, be one of the boys, or dead in the street. Though now you can be dead in some war as a bonus."

"But you got out," she said.

"Yep. I got out, and now I'm rich and alive. Most of the time, anyways."

She grimaced at the bitter taste of morning breath—or nap breath–in her mouth, and dug out a mint. She leaned against the back and looked through the back. No solution presented itself, and the truck did not magically spring up, fixed and ready to go.

"No sign of them?" she sighed.

"Nothin' I heard, but then, I didn't exactly stay right with the radios," Scout said.

She tried mentally to figure out how many hours it had been, but the accidental nap had put a wrench in her sense of things. Three hours, maybe? She peered up through the trees, yet the sky was still a deep blue afternoon, with no hint of gold of a coming sunset.

"We may have to walk after all," she said.

"They should be here to get us eventually," Scout said.

"I thought that, but they still haven't appeared, and they weren't that far ahead of us when the truck failed."

"Yeah, but the tracking devices, remember?" Scout said.

In all the...activity of the day, she'd completely forgotten. Many Mann co devices that weren't weapons that the men brought themselves had little tracking devices embedded in them. Scout's headset had been one, in fact. His first disciplinary hearing had been when he'd gone back home and forgotten to disengage the headset from his cap. Nowadays he left it in the Respawn whenever he wasn't using it.

"So all we have to do is wait," she said.

"Yep. Plenty of time to kill. Bet I can figure out a way to get through that, huh?"

She expected another flurry of innuendoes, but instead it was an affectionate glance he gave her.

"I love just watchin' you sometimes. Sneaking out and lookin' in the windows and seein' you do paperwork. I never saw someone do paperwork so prettily," Scout said.

"That's usually called stalking, Scout," she said.

"Nah, that's only with some creeper you don't know. You know me! It's like....walkin' a girl home because you don't want some jerkass creepin' on her. I'm just makin' sure none of those other chucklenuts at the base are treatin' you bad."

Never mind that the other men were quite respectful and hadn't even made a comment about her out of earshot let alone near her, and Scout had made some innuendoes to her dirty enough to make a prostitute blush. She supposed his heart was in the right place, even if his groin kept getting in the way of his common sense.

He leapt over the rail and pulled himself in, far more quickly than she expected. His gray eyes were very intense, and that was all she thought as he caught her up, pulling her into a kiss before she could even respond. She'd underestimated him. It was a bad habit of hers that the job was quickly curing. Just because he wasn't bookish or polite, because he was brash and loud, from a poor background and an egotist.

He cradled her head as she was pushed against the body of the truck. He pushed her skirts up, fumbling between kisses. She bit his lower lip, lacing her arms about his neck. When their tongues touched, she ground against him. She hadn't expected to be so turned on so fast, but he hadn't forgotten what she'd taught him.

If it wasn't for a bellow of _found it!_ she would've let him take her all the way right there in the back of the truck. She jerked away in surprise, and it was only his hand behind her that kept her from hitting her head on the truck. He wasn't so lucky, as he knocked it hard against the metal.

"Frickin' hell, dammit—"

She knew it was bad when a glance beside her showed that he was wearing more of her lipstick than she was. She mentally attempted to figure out an escape plan, but nothing came. Wait, maybe she could claim CPR, though that wouldn't explain her mussed hair and the marks all over him.

She pushed him out to greet them, a little harder than she meant to as he nearly tumbled right out. She took a deep breath and stepped out. She didn't have a mirror handy, but she could only imagine what she looked like.

"So, uh, Miss P, you find that thingamajig you was lookin' for? That car part? The one I was helpin' you with?"

"No, Scout. I did not," she said.

"See you're keepin' busy," Saxton Hale said. There was a distinct innuendo in his voice. Several of the other men laughed at this. She smoothed out her dress, though it didn't do much to help it look like a disaster.

"Yes, I was...looking for something."

"And I was helping her!" Scout burst in. 

"We would've come sooner, but you both seemed too _busy_ ," said Spy. He flicked cigarette ash away and ground the butt under the heel of his boot.

She looked quickly to Scout, who shrugged. Suddenly in her memory of all their passionate time together, she remembered the _damned headset_. She'd pushed it off him a few times, but it'd always landed close enough to them to be in range. 

And apparently while they hadn't been able to get through, the other mercenaries had been able to hear them quite well. 

Oh, God. _His headset had remained on the entire time,_ and Scout hadn't exactly been quiet. Then again, neither had she. A glance around at the mercenaries, some of who were giving her a knowing leer showed that there wasn't a chance they hadn't been manning the radio when that happened, or it'd been drowned out by the possible bear wrestling.

She blushed approximately the color of Scout's t-shirt. She tried to fight for composure, but the sheer horrifying nature of the situation she'd landed herself made her want to grab a blanket, wrap herself inside it and never come out again.

Saxton Hale clapped Scout on the shoulder hard enough that Scout almost teetered over. "I didn't know you had it in you, boy!"

She cleared her throat and tried to take control of the situation. "I...I take full responsibility for my actions and accept whatever docks to pay or other punishments may come my way."

"Hey, wait a minute—If you're going to blame anyone, blame _me_ and dock _my_ pay. It wasn't her fault. I pulled my shirt off. She just couldn't help herself," Scout interjected. "My naked body is like catnip for chicks."

"What is this now?" Saxton Hale said.

"Regarding the ahem...fraternization that occurred," Miss Pauling said.

"Wait, that's shorthand for fuckin', right? Then it'd be _fraternizations_ ," Scout said smugly. 

" _Scout, you're not helping—_ " She said under her breath.

"Ahem, what I was saying—Section five line three of my contract, emphasized in red marker and underlined. The company has a very strict no fraternization policy."

"What kind of hippie conspiracy is this? Mann Co was _created_ on the principles of hats, weapons deals, punching things and sex!" Saxton Hale bellowed.

"Hippies like sex, sir," she said.

"Not the right kind! Theirs probably doesn't even have any hitting in it! They probably yell _free the whales_ when they come with and then sing love songs to each other!"

"I wouldn't know," she replied. 

Saxton Hale punched his fist into his palm for emphasis. "I have been telling and telling Helen that she needs to get these boys out once in a while, but this clinches it. I'll have to put the initiative for stripper weekends in again."

"Count my vote in for that!" Scout said.

Miss Pauling gave him a sidelong glare. For once, he didn't notice.

Several of the other men cheered and wolf whistled at this. Well, it had their votes, apparently.

"Continuing on... sir, about the transgressions, I—"

"Transgression? Bah! Frankly, there has never been two people who needed to get laid more. What Helen doesn't know won't hurt her." He gave her a knowing wink, and somehow it managed to be very manly and imposing at the same time.

Scout smirked even more. He was swaggering so hard, she was surprised he wouldn't trip on his massive ego and hurt himself. She supposed he was right, and she wasn't about to fight for her right to be fired. If Saxton Hale didn't care that she spent several hours having sex with one of his mercenaries instead of working, then she wasn't going to push the issue.

"Now, moving onto the event of the day—"

"Hey, wait up, big guy," Scout said. He stepped forward with that same determined look she'd seen so many times, but had taken on a new dangerous tinge with her. She'd thought that he'd betray and start wars for her, but she didn't think he'd do it now. Obviously, she'd thought wrong. Scout pulled out his baseball bat, and stood up tall, even though Saxton Hale dwarfed him in size.

"You're working her way too hard. Yeah, sure she can take it, but she needs a break sometimes. One day a year ain't enough."

"Scout, don't," she hissed. "I told you, I fight my own battles."

"Yeah, but maybe you can jump the line and get some time to yourself," he said.

Saxton considered him, but only for a second, because thinking things over wasn't his strong point. 

"That's gutsy. I like that in a man! If you fight me for it, I'll consider your offer," he said. His bright smile had turned dangerous, even predatory. When this happened, whole species tended to go extinct.

"Um, fight you?" Scout said. "Hahaha...you're kiddin', right, real funny, big guy. Reaaal funny."

"Today I had it scheduled to wrestle three bears and several crocodiles. Because of your actions, I might not even get to the crocodiles, and I was looking forward to nearly getting my arm torn off. You'll make up the challenge yourself! Leave your guns behind, we'll settle this like a _Mann_!"

Scout swallowed. "Oh yeah? Bring it, man. Let's see if you can catch me, hotpants!" 

"Them's fighting words, boy! My shorts are so patriotic, they should be considered the _national flag of Australia!_ "

"Oh, please. Lemme show you how they do it in Boston. _BONK!_ "

Scout leapt up and hit Saxton over the head with his bat, and jumped away, just barely missing getting hit with one of Saxton's massive fists. Saxton charged at him, but Scout was too fast, and he just narrowly missed being suplexed. He got another hit in, a thwap against Saxton's arm which was just hard enough to make Saxton roar and charge at him like a large wounded bear.

Scout jumped once, then twice, and hit Saxton over the head hard enough to stun him and knock over his hat. 

"You messed with my hat. This just got _serious_ ," Saxton said. He lunged so fast that even Scout was caught unaware and slammed him into the ground. There was a sickening crack, drowned out by the sound of Scout's scream. Saxton had him pinned and was hitting him again and again with his massive fists, and no matter how hard Scout tried to free himself, Saxton had him securely pinned beneath him.

She had to turn her face from the carnage, and the sound of Scout's screams, which were growing steadily stronger as more cracking came about. Finally, it was silent, and Saxton rose up, covered in blood and with a big smile. He picked up his hat and put it back up on his head.

"Good fight, good fight. Makes me want a steak dinner. What was he yammering about again?"

"More vacation time for me, sir," Miss Pauling said.

"Go ahead, you draw up the plans. I'll put it into effect, now hand me that phone, I need to order some dinner!"

She reached into Saxton Hale's large off-road vehicle, arrayed with the bones of the animals he had killed as hood ornaments. In a second, he was bellowing onto the phone _I want it rare! I want to be able to taste the blood—and make it snappy!_

"He lasted longer than I thought he would," Saxton said, once he had ended the call.

"I imagine that's what Miss Pauling said," Demoman said.

"I wouldn't doubt it. But you know the rules. Pay up, mate," Sniper said.

Demoman muttered a thickly accented curse and pulled out a fistful of money from his pocket.

"Leetle Scout fought well," Heavy said.

"Ja. There's nothing much left to patch up from him," Medic said. "Not even any spare parts for me to use."

She'd killed men and then disposed of their bodies, she'd watched the men unleash an endless amount of bloody carnage on each other day after day, she'd personally seen Saxton push a few species to extinction, and yet a death had never affected her. She'd touched every part of his body, left marks on him which were lost in the sea of bruises and broken bones of what was left of the pieces of him. Of course, he'd come back soon enough, but this was one body that she didn't want to dispose of.

"Um, sir...should I get the Quicklime?" She said reluctantly.

"Don't bother, he'll Respawn in a minute, and the animals will take care of the rest. It's almost dark, anyways. The wolves will take care of it, heh heh."

He put two fingers to his mouth and let out an ear piercing whistle.

"Come on, men! We return _to base_. And then I am going to have myself a _steak!_ And, aw hell, we're all having steak, and hiring strippers as well!"

A few men cheered, Heavy being the most enthusiastic of the bunch. She climbed into the empty seat where Scout would've been next to Sniper. The motor was too loud to talk, but then, Sniper was never much of a talker, anyways. He smoked and checked through his ammo, and she looked needlessly at her clipboard. 

Outside the vehicle, the trees went by so fast they merged to a green blur.

*

After assigning the clean up to an orderly, she made her way to the center of the base. She waited outside the Respawn for him to come back, and waited. And waited. It'd been quite a while, so he certainly should've reformed by now. For a second, she had the worry that he wouldn't reform at all, that fighting against Saxton Hale had been beyond the limits of what Respawn could reach, and he really had died that time.

However, she pushed that worry aside. By all means, he should be close enough. Then, she wondered if he was just hiding in the spawn room, lest someone see him. But a few moments later, he walked out with the exact same swagger which had gotten him into trouble in the first place.

"Miss Pauling! See, I told you I could do it! I _owned_ that fight!"

"...he ripped off your limbs and beat you to death with them while you screamed for mercy," Miss Pauling said. "After he broke all your ribs with a single punch, that was."

"Well, yeah, _eventually_ , but I totally got some great hits on him. I was all BONK and he was all AHHH. It was _amazin'._ "

Sometimes she wondered if Scout, like Pyro, wore a secret set of mind-alerting goggles which made him believe every action of his was witty, brave, and had saved the team single-handedly. It would explain a lot.

"That was very sweet of you, Scout, but I told you, I can fight my own battles," she said.

"Oh, I know you can hold your own, but I figured I'd do what I could. I mean, what are they gonna do? _Kill me?_ _Fire me?_ Good luck cappin' the point and stealin' info without me, that's all I can say."

"He did kill you," she reminded him.

"Yeah, well. A painful death ain't nothin' compared to a chance at gettin' you some time off. I can have a dozen deaths, but I don't always get the chance to spend more time with you," Scout said. He shrugged.

She had to admit, she'd never had a man willing to be beaten to death with his own limbs for her. Scout was breaking a lot of new ground here, already outpacing every boyfriend she'd ever had. Funny, she'd never have thought him the type.

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "That was the dumbest single thing you have ever done, and I once had to bail you out for trying to dispose of bombs in a mall Santa facility. Still, it was rather sweet."

She supposed she wasn't entirely immune to idiotic displays of testosterone done for the sake of her honor–or she should say, her vacation time.

"And, you may have lost, but Saxton Hale agreed that one day a year is too little time off, and he's implementing a new schedule. Right now, I'm still drafting the results, but it looks like you'll get more time off, as well."

Scout threw his arms about her in a sudden hug. He pulled back only to look on her with such affection, then hug her again.

"Oh man, we can actually spend some time together!" He kept his hands on her, always touching her. He looked at her with a mix of pure devotion and a swaggering attempt to woo her. What once would've annoyed her she now found rather cute. 

"So, Miss P. We a thing?" Scout said. 

With no fraternization clause pushing her down, and enough free time to breathe, she was running out of excuses. That, and he'd proven himself to be deeper than she expected. Well, that and the fact that she'd had the best damn sex of her life and wasn't about to let that get away.

"Yes, Scout. We're a thing."

He grabbed her and suddenly kissed her. Too rough, too wet. She steadied him and fought for control of the kiss, which he gladly gave her. She broke it, with a glance behind her. The fraternization clause might be in its dying stages, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be pulled in on a disciplinary hearing for not attending to her duties.

"I am going to take you on _so_ many dates!" He said. He jumped up and whooped. "Oh man, I knew you'd fall for my charms eventually!"

She couldn't help but smile. Apparently she had a boyfriend now. Usually there would be a sustained time of wooing and wondering, but she knew that Scout would just pushing and trying until he got boyfriend status, and after today, she was inclined to let him.

"I'll tell you when my next days are off and try and make our schedules align."

"I'd make the stars align for you, baby," Scout said. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"That one is the worst one I've heard yet, and that's saying something," she said.

"Hey, gimme a break, I just died. I gotta wait a bit to get my best game on. So, how about you and me, tonight, some dinner—"

"Sorry, I'll be busy tonight. I have to draft the proposal for the new schedule as soon as possible," she said. "Another time."

He nodded. "It's all right, it's all right. I'll get you out with me eventually."

She leaned in to give him one last quick kiss before she left. He wobbled off, a dreamy expression on his face as he went to join the others.

 

*

She went straight to her office and began to start writing up the new contracts and schedules. It wasn't until several hours later when she was trying to ease out a crick in her neck that she noticed something. She tilted her head and looked out the window. There was a heart drawn in the condensation, and Scout waved at her from the other side.

She opened the door and peered out at him. "You aren't going to watch the strippers with the rest of the men?"

"I'd rather watch you," Scout said.

She raised an eyebrow. "They kicked you out, huh?"

"Nah. I mean, I went there, for science and crap, but...." He pushed his cap back, awkward for once. "Like I said, I'd rather watch you."

For once, he wasn't using a pick up line on her, or trying to woo her with false charm. If she ever wondered if his feelings were true, all she would have to do is look at this moment, where Scout of all people gave up a chance to spend an evening with strippers to watch her do paperwork.

She leaned against the doorframe. "Are you cold out there?"

"No worse than Viaduct," Scout said. "Besides, just lookin' at you keeps me _warm._ "

"...I'll let you stay in if you're good."

"Define good," Scout said.

"No sex on my desk, limited number of passes and interruptions, and a limited amount of talking, preferably none," she said.

Scout squirmed uncomfortably. It was definitely a tall order to ask him. But he squared his shoulders and stepped in, an expression of determination on his face.

"Baby, if it means I get to be near you, I'll be as quiet as a frickin' mouse. I make impossible things happen, because I'm just that amazin' a guy."

"...impossible things like you sitting quietly and not talking the entire time?"

"Just like that!" Scout said.

She returned to her papers, and he actually—wonder of wonders—kept quiet. She had underestimated his determination again. She'd have to stop doing that, because he showed no sign of stopping proving her assumptions of him wrong.


End file.
